


Heafen

by orichan



Series: Heafen-verse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Addiction, DG Forum Fic Exchange, Depression, F/M, Gaming, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Hogwarts, Quidditch, Secret Identity, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-05-15 17:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19300822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orichan/pseuds/orichan
Summary: The draw of Heafen, a magical game with a mysterious maker, was the promise of what one could not have in real life. For some, that was love and friendship; for others, it was money and power; for Ginny Weasley, it was anonymity and a pair of perfectly functional legs; for Draco Malfoy, it was a bit more complicated. [Written for DG Forum Fic Exchange 2018]





	1. Chapter 1

**September 2003**

Arthur Lowe was the middle-aged, stubby, and balding senior writer of the lifestyle section of the _Daily Prophet_. In his younger days, he was a diligent journalist who would attend the Annual Wizarding London Toy Convention and visit every booth to discover exciting new games and toys to introduce to the general public. But 20 years of seeing almost exactly the same things—new versions of broomsticks that were just minutely better than last year's version, new versions of Wizard Chess with different character designs, playing cards with a variety of reactions to a player's wins or losses, and nightmarish magicked dolls or figures that interacted with children (Arthur had made it a rule to never write about those because he thought they were incredibly creepy)—he had long since given up hope to find anything truly innovative at the convention and attended it purely for the free booze and the fine looking show girls.

It was the pretty smile of a tall, shapely brunette in emerald green that first drew him to Booth 342 at the convention in September of 2003. "Welcome to the Armandian Entertainment Booth," the girl said to Arthur when he walked nearer.

It was only then he noticed the lack of any recognizable games at the booth that made him curious enough to ask: "What kind of games are you presenting?"

The girl gestured at the strange eyewear and earpiece that Arthur thought was part of her costume. "We present Heafen, a magic based virtual reality role playing game where you're the hero of a kingdom in peril. Would you like to give it a try?"

The terms "virtual reality" and "role playing game" were completely foreign terms and Arthur took a mental note to find out if those were one of those "young people" terms that he should know about. He hadn't planned to waste any time trying out any games at the convention floor that day, but the girl gave his arm a warm squeeze and another coy smile and he decided the free martinis at the convention VIP lounge could wait.

He put on the eyewear and earpiece.

"Are you ready, sir?"

He gave a small shrug. "Ready."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the convention floor melted out of existence and when his surroundings stabilized again, he was suddenly standing in thick mud next to a medieval-looking gatehouse. The sign on the stone wall told him he was in Yolmaf, a village in the kingdom of Valencia.

When his ten minutes of game time was up, he had just finished killing a giant with a broad sword and a few extremely impressive fire magic spells that he would never be able cast in real life. It took him a few seconds before he readjusted to reality, and then the realization that he just had a taste of something truly extraordinary hit him. "What is this game called again?"

"Heafen, by Armandian Entertainment."

Arthur would spend the rest of his day telling people all about wonders of Heafen. The word of mouth grew, and by the end of the 3-day convention, everyone was talking about Heafen and Armandian Entertainment. Booth 342 would have a line that wrapped around the corner, and Heafen was voted Game of the Convention by a record-breaking margin.

The rest, as they say, is history.

There was a world before Heafen, and another after it.

**—x—x—**

**March 2008**

March 6th 2008 begun as a perfectly normal day.

Twenty-five-year-old Ginny Weasley rolled out of bed 20 minutes after her alarm sounded. She shrugged on a tank top and shorts, pulled on a light jacket, and left her flat on the edge of Diagon Alley for her daily jog. She felt upbeat and ready to take on the world. It was one of the rare sunny days in November, and she couldn't help but think, as she ran along the Thames toward the Tower of London, that the wind that had chased the dark clouds away had simultaneously driven away the shadows that had hung about her since her breakup with Harry six and a half months prior. She was excited to go on a date that night (not a rebound date, a real date with the handsome medic that treated her wrist sprain a week ago), and life—though not perfect—was good.

It was a perfectly normal day.

It was 8:52am and game day, but the game would not start until 3:00pm, so she took her time showering and changing, and treated herself to a full English breakfast complete with black pudding at Karl's Café downstairs. She picked up the dress robes she ordered for the Annual All-Stars Quidditch banquet from Madam Malkin's before heading to the Harpies' home pitch.

The pre-game routine went by especially smoothly that day. They were finished with their fly around the pitch and pre-game drills five minutes early. They were already in a good position in the league, so whether the Holyhead Harpies won or lost against Pride of Portree that day didn't really matter, but Ginny never played to lose. When the game started, she dodged and looped until the Harpies were so far ahead that even if Portree caught the snitch, the Harpies would still win.

It was a perfectly normal day.

Portree took a timeout 94 minutes into the game. Ginny landed twenty seconds later on the pitch surrounded by cheers. The sun was bright that day. She squinted toward the stands and waved to her fans. She turned around and waved to the fans on the other end.

And that was when she saw a blue flash at the corner of her eyes.

Followed by pain.

It started on her left leg before spreading outward until it enveloped her whole body. It felt like someone had lit a fire inside her body, burning and tearing her apart from the inside. The heat was so intense she could barely register the moment when her body hit earth. She could hear screaming, but whether it was from the crowd or from herself, she did not know.

Relief only came when her vision went dark.

**—x—x—**

When Ginny Weasley came to, she found herself attached to an assortment of magical contraptions. The familiar fog of pain potions kept her from feeling pain.

"Ginny!" Her mother hovered into her vision. Ginny instantly noticed the puffiness of her mother's eyes. She had been crying.

_What happened?_

There was shuffling of footsteps, then her father and all of her brothers all came into view. _A full family reunion?_ They hadn't been crying, but she could see the bags under their eyes. They looked like they hadn't slept for at least two days. She strained her mind to piece together her memories. She was playing a game against…Portree? A Quidditch accident? She had never fallen off her broom from high up before, but Quidditch was a dangerous sport and, she supposed, it was only a matter of time.

They should have known better than to worry about her—broken bones, no matter how ugly, were nothing a bitter potion or two couldn't fix. She tried to let them know she was okay, but her throat was so dry her words came out as a bad cough.

Her mother instantly race to soothe her cough while her father brought her water. When she could finally speak, her voice was a raw whisper: "I'm okay."

She did not miss the nervous looks her brothers exchanged. Or the way her mother tightened her grip on her hand. Or how her father pressed his lips the way he always did when he was nervous. Dread raised her stomach as their reaction sank in.

"What happened?"

"You were attacked at the game," Charlie said, when no one else would.

"Attacked? By who?"

Ron spoke up, too quiet and too solemn. "Harry is on the case. He said it may be a _Death Eater_." He spat out that last word like he had tasted something vile.

Ginny nodded numbly as she took in the information. _Death Eater_. Death Eaters had always been more Harry's forte. She had resolved to think about Voldemort or his followers as little as possible after the war because she didn't believe in letting fear win over freedom. _You're so paranoid,_ she used to say with a laugh whenever Harry fussed over her public safety around the anniversary of the war…

She changed topic because she couldn't handle the irony. "Did the Harpies win?"

"They did, thanks to you," Bill assured, but there was no smile on his lips. The room turned silent and the tension in the room built until it became completely unbearable. There was something else her family wasn't telling her. Something that was eating at them from the inside.

"What is it? What's wrong?" She asked, but no one would look her in her eyes. "Tell me." She grabbed onto her mother's hand and shook it until her mother had no choice but to look at her.

"The healers—" her mother's voice cracked and she broke into a sob.

Her father stepped forward, gave her mother a half hug, and finished the sentence for her. "They fear there may be permanent damage." He gestured helplessly at the end of her bed.

Ginny struggled to push herself up, she didn't want to know what he was alluding to, but she knew she had to know all the same. She forced herself to look. Something was wrong, but for a moment, her mind couldn't quite process what was off. Then, to her horror, it finally occurred to her:

She couldn't lift her left leg.

**—x—x—**

**April 2008**

She was released from St. Mungo's a month and a half after the attack.

She couldn't walk out of St. Mungo's without help, but at least the pain was manageable even without potions, and she could move her left leg a little. It was progress, and she couldn't help but be hopeful despite the healer's cautious warnings that full recovery was not guaranteed. Unlikely, even.

But she knew that she would prove them wrong. She would get better, she believed whole-heartedly. She had, after all, survived the war, survived Tom Riddle and the Chamber of Secrets. There was no way she would allow some dark wizard's spell destroy her life.

Harry would catch her attacker and she would fly with the Harpies again in no time.

**—x—x—**

**May 2008**

The healers told her parents she must refrain from physical activities, and her mother had taken their words to heart. She brought her back to her flat, but stayed during the day to cook, clean, and take care of her. She wouldn't let her do anything, not even to wash a dish.

"I'm bored," she complained to her brothers when George and Ron visited her a week after her discharge.

Ron smiled. "Good thing I got Geor—"

George elbowed Ron on his side.

"Ouch!" George gave Ron a pointed look. " _We_ thought to bring you this," Ron quickly corrected as he rubbed his ribs dramatically.

George rolled his eyes and pulled out a shrunken box from his trousers pocket and unshrunk it. "Full set of Heafen gear made by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes ready to be used, the best cure for boredom."

Ginny first heard of Heafen a little over two years ago, when she asked Victoire what she wanted for Christmas. Her niece wasted no time to tell her all about Heafen, the hottest game in her class, and the coveted Terrius 2, a peripheral that would not only allow her to touch Heafen with her own hands, but also make her the most popular girl in her class. Bill and Fleur refused to buy Victoire the over-priced magicked gloves because they didn't want to raise a spoiled daughter. But Ginny was Victoire's aunt, and there were no rules to stop her from spoiling her niece and solidifying her status as the best aunt in the world.

She heard a lot more about the game when George and Ron negotiated rights for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to make their own official Heafen peripherals half a year later. For a solid two months ideas for new features were all they could talk about. As much as she loved them, she learned to tune them out whenever they brought up Heafen, she had absolutely no interest in gaming in general.

The circumstances were different now. Interested or not, she had nothing to lose: anything would be better than sitting in her room and staring out of her windows for another minute.

George took out the box's contents. It included eyewear, an earpiece, and a pair of gloves. "Want to give it a whirl?"

She took the gear from his hands without hesitation. "Hit me."

"Ron and I will set you up in the original world, Valencia. Still our favorite, and it's a good place for beginners."

They activated the game and the Burrow swirled and shifted away. When her surroundings re-stabilized, she was standing in front of an old gatehouse. The castle in the distance looked like ones she had seen in Scotland, but the purple moon above it told her she was not on Earth. A tall light haired orc, probably part of the game, told her some evil enchantress called Amoriala had released a horde of demons into the land of Valencia and she was the only one in the village who could help.

As she killed her first Komother with a jumping kick that she could not do in real life with her injured leg, Ginny felt tears in her eyes and suddenly understood what the hype was all about.

**—x—x—**

**July 2008**

Gill Millers, the manager of Holyhead Harpies, sipped her tea. "What's the name of the plant you have in that planter?"

Ginny turned to follow Gill's gaze. She had absolutely no interest in gardening and it was only because her housekeeper wouldn't shut up about those new spring flowers she planted that she knew their name. "Lungworts."

Gill nodded thoughtfully. "Luke and I had been thinking about redoing our gardens, and I think those will be wonderful underneath the willow tree. I was thinking of foxgloves as well, what do you think?"

It'd been over 20 minutes since Gill had stepped into her home, and they had yet to talk about what Gill really had in mind. Gill had a tendency to meander in her conversations, but today she may be setting a new record. Ginny could barely contain her exasperated groan. She had always been a direct-to-the-point kind of girl. "That's wonderful Gill, but I am sure you didn't come all the way here to talk about flowers."

Gill visibly recoiled. Ginny, feeling a tad guilty, added her excuse: "I'm sorry, I'm just a little snappy. My leg is bothering me."

It wasn't exactly a lie: her leg was aching even if her mood was significantly better before Gill arrived.

Gill sighed and shook her head with a bland smile that Ginny did not like. "No, no, you're right. Let's get to the point." She pulled out a stack of paper and pushed it toward her.

Ginny skimmed the paper. There was a lot of legal speak, but she saw the words "contract termination" and the seven-digits number next to it, and she did not need her lawyers to know the Harpies were trying to pay her out of the eight years contract they had signed with her just over a year prior.

Ginny was aware that Gill was talking again, something about how the team really appreciated her services, and that this was a very painful decision for everyone involved, and that this was a generous offering from the team, but Ginny wasn't fully processing any of it. All she could think about was everything she had given up for the Harpies. She skipped taking the N.E.W.T. because of tryouts, she lost friends and got into arguments with her family by missing countless meetups, she neglected her relationship with Harry until there was nothing to be done—all in the name of becoming the best Chaser, becoming the youngest captain in the Harpies' history, becoming the first person to bring the Harpies to the Euro Cup… 

She had given the last ten years of her life to her team, but now, her team was giving up on her.

**—x—x—**

**October 2008**

She felt like she could not breathe in the subtle tension that filled the room. Her family was talking and laughing but somehow everything felt so very forced and restrained. It was the beginning of another Quidditch season but no one mentioned a word about it. They were trying to protect her, she knew.

Just like how they stopped wearing their favorite teams' colours, or averted their eyes from her left leg, or brought up the fact it'd been nearly six months and no one was formally charged for what happened to her.

The ever-growing horde of children her brothers had created ran into her in their game of tag. She looked up sharply. The children took no notice. Percy's girl, Molly, stepped on her bad foot. It hurt, but not excruciatingly, but enough for her to grunt in pain.

The Burrow instantly quieted. She could feel everyone's concerned eyes on her.

She felt her blood rushing to her cheeks at the attention. "I'm—"

But her mother had already rushed to her side. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she told her, but she forced her to sit as her brothers swarmed around her. She felt a headache forming as they closed in. "Just a small—"

"What did I say about running, Molly?" Percy asked too sternly. Molly started to cry.

Her headache worsened into constant pounding throbs. She felt trapped. "it's fine, I'm fine, please."

But her words fell to deaf ears. Molly kept crying. Her family continued to fuss about her like she was made of glass, so fragile she would shatter at any moment. Breathing was hard. She was suffocating, drowning in the noise and commotion. She wanted, no, needed, to be alone.

She pulled out her wand before anyone could stop her and apparated home.

**—x—x—**

**January 2009**

The draw of Heafen was the promise of what one could not have in real life. For some, that was love and friendship; for others, it was magical talents and power; for Ginny Weasley, it was anonymity and a pair of perfectly functional legs.

In Heafen, Ginny is a perfectly ordinary mage class woodland elf named Wesvra. The only distinguished feature she had was a long flame-coloured hair customization that she purchased (she was—Heafen or not—still a Weasley after all). As Wesvra, Ginny traversed worlds without the not-entirely-subtle glances and the constant whispering of words like "tragic" or "sad" or "pity" that followed her wake in the real world. Wesvra could run, dodge, and attack with an ease Ginny never quite appreciated before, and kill increasingly powerful foes as she honed her skills. And when Wesvra teamed up with strangers for quests and hunts, she was an asset and not a liability.

In the real world, Ginny Weasley was an empty husk of her former self, but in Heafen, Ginny felt free and alive.

**—x—x—**

**March 2009**

"We will conduct a final test," said Healer Reed.

Ginny didn't quite remember how she had gotten to Healer Reed's office, but she knew whatever earlier tests she had done were good and she didn't really see why she shouldn't do a final test, so she nodded.

Healer Reed walked over to her desk and pulled out something from behind that she didn't notice before: a broom.

Ginny stared at the broom dumbly. She hadn't flown since the attack, and the last major milestone she had reached was over half a year ago when she was able to hobble without support, but she seemed to have reached a plateau. "I'm not sure…"

"You can," the healer said with an encouraging smile, holding out the broom to her. "You just have to trust me."

Ginny stood up to find her leg surprisingly solid beneath her. She took a hesitant step and found the familiar pain gone. She took another. How could she have forgotten she had gotten better? She laughed and took the broom in her hand. She laid the broom flat and then pulled one leg up and around the broom, and suddenly she felt the familiar weightlessness. "I'm flying!" she cried in excitement. She turned to Healer Reed, only to find her gone and replaced by Georgiana, her captain on the Harpies from when she first started her Quidditch career. Her presence didn't make any sense, but the fact didn't bother her as much as it probably should.

"Took you long enough," Georgiana said in her usual teasing way.

Her surroundings shifted while Georgiana spoke, but somehow everything still felt right. At the corner of her eye she saw a Quaffle zooming towards her. She reached out her arm reflexively and felt the ball land squarely in her hand. "Sorry to keep you waiting," Ginny said with a smirk, and flew toward the goal hoops.

She laughed as she felt wind flowing through her hair and past her body. She dodged a Bludger, and suddenly she was within scoring distance. She wound back her arm and—

She startled awake from the sound of a loud bang. She could hear wind and heavy rain from the window. She saw the flash of light from her closed eyelids, followed momentarily by another loud bang. A storm must have blown in while she slept. She must have been dreaming. She felt the burn of disappointment as reality sank in and she oriented herself: she hadn't been flying, the Harpies hadn't taken her back, and she was on her bed in her home…

She opened her eyes to darkness before another flash of lightning lit up the sky a moment later. She should close the window, she decided numbly, after feeling the dampness of the air. She pushed herself up and off the edge of her bed. The pain that shot up her left leg as she put weight onto it was so intense she grunted out loud. She let it settle, then took a step, and another. She managed five steps before she tripped on her desk chair and fell onto the floor.

She cried out in frustration and gave her desk chair a violent shove.

It's been a year. She was supposed to be all better by now. She was supposed to be…

 _Be patient, things will get better_ , her family said to her often. She wanted to believe them, but more and more, Ginny had trouble imagining better.

**—x—x—**

**May 2009**

"Ugh, these things just never stop coming, do they?" the short orc next to her asked rhetorically while swinging her axe and slicing off the skull of another skeleton. "Remind me why we are here again?"

Wesvra rolled her eyes and cleared a small radius with her fire spell. "You invited yourself, Lucaorl. I told you where I was planning to go."

Catacomb of the Tututi was infamous for its hordes of persistent undead skeletons that leveled up with a player's level. It was a great place to grind for level, but more importantly, it was a great place to go after a particularly bad day.

It was extremely cathartic to cut through hordes of mid-level skeletal undead in a crowded catacomb.

Swing, slash, dodge. Swing, slash, dodge. "Bad day? I had a bad day too, my prof gave me detention for being 3 minutes late."

Ginny was indeed having a bad day.

Rose told her she didn't want her to bring her to the museum because she walked too slow. It was an accurate observation, and perhaps she was overly sensitive, but the offhand comment wounded like a twist of a knife. It was ridiculous to be crushed by a four-year-old, but then again, she was coping by mindlessly killing undead in the hundreds in Heafen with a suspected thirteen-year-old boy she had never met in real life, so maybe that's just how laughably absurd her life had become. "That sounds awful, kid."

Lucaorl scrunched up his face. "I'm not a kid."

"Whatever you say." She kicked away the skeleton that was about to hit Lucaorl in the back and cast a chain lightning spell. It felt good to see the skeletons collapse in a pile around her.

**—x—x—**

**August 2009**

"I'm sorry, Miss Weasley," said Healer Reed after she read out the result of the latest test: no noticeable improvement since the last test two months ago.

Ginny couldn't keep her despair from her face. She didn't have high hopes, but to hear she had made no recovery in the last two months didn't just feel like a setback, it felt like crushing defeat. She could feel tears at the back of her eyelids and she took a deep breath to keep them at bay. She didn't want Healer Reed to feel even worse for being the bearer of bad news.

Ginny gave a wan smile and shook her head. "It is what it is." She glanced at the clock on her right and made her excuse, "I have a meeting with Harry in thirty minutes to talk about the investigation so I better get going. I'll see you in two months."

She was lying. She had met up with Harry before the appointment. She had hoped for news on her attacker but Harry would only tell her he was following a new lead. He wouldn't give her any details, not even to confirm or deny whether her attacker was really a dark wizard or witch. All he gave her was that damned apologetic smile.

She stood up and hobbled as quickly as she could out of Healer Reed's office and out of St. Mungo's.

She made it to the end of the corridor.

She heard quick steps, her only warning before a swirl of dark robes and blond hair made a sudden appearance from behind the corner and turned directly into her. Had this been before the attack, she would have been able to jump away to avoid collision, but as it was, she could only give a sharp yelp as they made contact and she fell backwards.

The man cursed, apologized, and managed to grab her arm before she made full contact with the ground. "Are you alright?" he asked as he pulled her up.

The fall still hurt, she would likely bruise, but she could tell there was no permanent damage so she nodded.

"I didn't mean—" he broke off abruptly and Ginny could feel his eyes focused on her. "Ginny Weasley?"

She gave an inward groan. He didn't quite sound like a fan and his voice did sound familiar. An old acquaintance perhaps?

She looked up and was instantly startled by what she saw: straight blond hair, cold grey eyes, and aristocratic high cheekbones. His face had sharpened from when he was younger, she had not seen him for years in person or in the news, but she had no doubt, the man who had ran into her was: "Malfoy."

The Ministry had acquitted his family's war crimes years ago, but words like "dark arts" and "Deatheater" still bubbled up in her mind. She couldn't help but notice the injustice: _that someone like him could walk around unscathed after the war while she_ … And that, along with her disappointing meeting with Harry and the negative result from her checkup triggered a sudden burst of righteous anger.

She yanked her arm away from his grip. "Were you trying to finish the job your buddies failed at?"

Malfoy looked genuinely taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't act innocent, we all know _you people_ did this to me," Ginny snapped, gesturing curtly at her leg.

Malfoy glanced down at her leg. It took him a moment to process what she said, but his eyes narrowed as he reached a realization. "You think I…" he broke off, his jaw clenched. "I had nothing to do with your attack."

Ginny felt a pang of satisfaction from his reaction and continued with a cruel smirk. "Perhaps not directly—"

"No. Directly or indirectly, I had no involvement in it," Malfoy cut in, his voice firm.

Ginny snorted dismissively. "Of course not. After all, you are _only_ a Death Eater."

Malfoy sucked in a sharp breath. He looked away through gritted teeth and combed his fingers through his hair. Then, closing his eyes, he let out a deep sigh. "We can't change the past," he said quietly after a long pause. He glanced down at her leg, then looked back up right in her eyes. "I wasn't involved with the attack, Weasley, but I'm sorry about what happened to you."

His words sounded so surprisingly calm and sincere and Ginny wasn't sure how to react. Before she could think of what to say, Malfoy nodded a silent goodbye, and walked away.

**—x—x—**

There were few people in the Wizarding World who would not recognize the avatar of the creator of Heafen: Amaroc the Maker, a dark elf necromancer with black hair and grey eyes of unknown level and a crisp British accent. Amaroc was prolific in Heafen. He personally shut down user-made worlds that broke Heafen rules against bigotry, surprised unsuspecting fans by participating in quests, and routinely spoke in press conferences and interviews held in the Heafen city-world, Soltay.

Yet, despite all of his Heafen appearances, despite being named "Man of the Year" by _The Prophet_ three years in a row, the real-life identity of the creator was one of Wizarding World's best kept secret. He never attended award ceremonies or public functions. He conducted business meetings with partners and investors strictly in Heafen. If he did attend Heafcon (the largest Heafen fan convention in the world) as rumoured, he never announced himself. The few C-suites like Blaise Zabini who must know who he really was wouldn't speak beyond acknowledging that the creator was an eccentric man.

The mystery spurred on all types of wild rumors. Some said he never made public appearances because he was horribly disfigured in real-life. Some said based on the hair colour of his avatar and his British accent that he could be none other than Harry Potter. Some said he may not be human at all but some sort of sentient magic being that could only interact with the world through Heafen.

When asked about the rumours in interviews, Amaroc the Maker would only shrug, neither confirming or discrediting any of the theories, and say with a tilted smile: "It's better this way."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**October 2009**

Wizarding UK was small; Wizarding London was even smaller. Despite her best efforts to keep a low profile when she went outside, she would inevitably bump into someone who knew the old Ginny: a Quidditch player she used to play against, a member of the Order of Phoenix that she fought alongside, a classmate that sat next to her at Hogwarts.

She saw Neville Longbottom at the grocery store on a warm Autumn day. He had grown out of his awkward teenage years into a handsome man, but his warmth and gentleness remained unchanged. She tried, as usual, to make an excuse and leave, but Neville wouldn't hear of it and insisted on carrying her groceries and escorting her home. It had been months since she spoke with someone she genuinely liked in the real world outside of her family and healers, so she relented.

For a while, the back and forth went by smoothly. It was nice to hear about his life as the professor of Herbology at Hogwarts. It was interesting to hear stories about the students and the many ways in which Hogwarts had changed and not changed. She began to wonder if she was wrong in trying to avoid her old friends and acquaintances, that maybe speaking with them was not as awful as she feared.

But then, Neville asked: "How are you doing? What have you been up to?"

He meant well, she knew he did—there wasn't a mean bone in Neville's being—but she felt like she had been betrayed and kicked. The questions still hurt. Thinking about her new life, about everything she couldn't do anymore, hurt. She imagined asking him point blank: How do you think I'm doing? She wondered if he would grimace, whether he would think she was crazy for concurrently wanting to dig a hole to bury herself in and whip out her wand and hex everyone within a 10-meter radius.

She bit the inside of her cheeks. "I'm fine," she said through the false smile she wore like a shield.

**—x—x—**

**November 2009**

Amaroc the Maker appeared in Soltay unannounced, and surprised everyone with news of _Heafen: Endless Night_ , the first official Heafen core game in three years, available the next day at the Heafen Stores, and by owl seven days later.

A week was an eternity to wait for a long-awaited release, and Ginny realized, despite her distaste for crowds, it was time for her to finally make her way to the famous Heafen Store in Diagon Alley.

Armandian Entertainment bought out a group of 6 older stores at the far end of Diagon Alley four years ago, and announced the plan to tear them down to build the first Heafen Store. The store was to look so different than the rest of the stores—a stand alone glass cube (a blatant copy, according to Hermione, of a Muggle store that sold devices for communication)—that for a time there were protests by traditionalists about how it destroyed the look and feel of Diagon Alley.

Most people, though, simply saw it as progress.

The Ministry approved the project, and the store was built. The store's unique look and Heafen's popularity made the store a landmark almost as soon as it was opened. Wizards and witches flocked from around the world to visit the store. Restaurants and stores in Diagon Alley saw a 250% increase in business and every objection anyone ever had of the store were forgotten.

Ginny couldn't help but stare for a moment as the store came into view. She had heard about it from all her family and her Heafen quest group, but it still looked grander than she had imagined. The building peacefully blended into its surroundings, and in certain angles, all that was visible was a golden Armandian Entertainment logo floating in thin air. She put on glasses and hid her red hair with a hat, took a deep breath to steady her nerves, and followed the steady stream of people into the nearly invisible glass door.

Inside it was much larger and more crowded than the outside suggested. As she made her way down to the main display floor, her eyes found the large _Endless Night_ stand. She tried her best to hurry up because she knew the spells could sell out at any moment, but progress was slow with her hobble, and people kept cutting in front of her. By the time she had finally gotten to the stand, the crowd around the stand thinned and there were no more game spells left.

Ginny was in the middle of swearing colorfully and loudly when the most unbelievably wonderful thing happened: a copy of _Endless Night_ was pushed into her hand.

"I was just looking. You can have this copy."

It felt surreal as Ginny closed her fingers around the box. She spun toward the kind stranger in happy disbelief. "Merlin, thank—" she stopped in mid sentence when she recognized the speaker. "Malfoy."

It took a moment before Malfoy recognized her. "Oh, it's you," he said mildly, as his expression quickly shifted from surprise to something less discernable.

He didn't exactly sound disappointed, but he didn't sound excited to see her either. Ginny hadn't thought of him since their meeting at St. Mungo's, but now that he was right there, she couldn't help but remember her accusations and his adamant denial. "Look, if you want the game back—"

"Do you play?"

"Play?" she sputtered out, having been caught off-balanced by the question.

Malfoy nodded toward the box in her hand. "Heafen."

In spite of the fact millions of people played Heafen, the general consensus was that it was fun but not exactly a productive pastime. Aside from George and Ron, Ginny always felt too self-conscious to talk about Heafen in real life, so she deflected the question instead: "Why does it matter?"

"Curiosity, I suppose," Malfoy answered with a shrug. "I play. I like Heafen."

His easy admission caught her off-balance again, but before she could respond or embarrass herself, the strange looking watch on his wrist beeped. "Ah, I've to go," Malfoy announced after a quick glance at his watch. He was already halfway to the staircase when he looked back. "Maybe I'll see you in Heafen?"

She replied with an unthinking, "Maybe."

A satisfied smirk instantly appeared on Malfoy's lips. "You _do_ play."

The deduction caught Ginny off-balance again and made her speechless.

Malfoy laughed, clearly amused by her reaction. "Enjoy _Endless Night_ ," Malfoy said with an annoyingly knowing tone, and with that, he waved and disappeared into the crowd.

**—x—x—**

**December 2009**

The hunt she joined out of boredom turned out to be fun.

There was a glint to her left and Ginny jumped to avoid an arrow before counterattacking with a quick fire spell cast from her short sword. She smirked as the spell hit and fire spread into a humanoid-shaped outline. Her enchanted weapon had an added effect of guaranteeing a 30-second burn for all fire spells. The incremental damage was not dangerous to high level players, but it made her opponents, even those under shroud, visible.

She teleported to the enemy player. Her avatar was a woodland elf and woodland elves were by nature agile, but paired with Ginny's Quidditch reflexes and the fact she had focused her experience points on agility, she was one of the fastest creatures around. She could dodge most attacks, and in the time when other players could attack once, Ginny could attack four times.

Within 20 seconds, her opponent was dead.

She looked at her map. The treasure was close—strange, she thought she saw other players ahead of her earlier, but there was no other player indicated on the map—could she actually win this hunt even though she was woefully under-leveled?

She took another turn, and then at the edge of her vision, she saw it: the purple glow that indicated the unopened treasure's location. She stepped toward it cautiously. Legendary beasts guarded the treasures and they often appeared out of nowhere. One step. No beast. Another step. No beast. She was feet away from the oddly colored treasure box. Ginny frowned. Treasure boxes were usually brown or black, but this one was shiny crimson, as if…

The mountain rumbled behind her. Ginny turned and saw to her horror a crystal dragon in mid-attack. She knew from the 'Level 150' above the dragon's life bar that it was meaningless to try blocking the attack. She was out-leveled and it was too late to dodge. Blood, Ginny realized as she closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable. The box was covered in layers of fresh blood.

She waited for the respawning music to sound, but a second passed and another and nothing. What?

She peeked open one of her eyes and caught the crystal dragon collapsing on its side, bounded by four ghostly claws and surrounded by dark mist that appeared to drain its life force. It twitched a few times, then stilled. It was dead.

A dark, humanoid shadow shifted behind the mist. With a wave of its hand, the ghostly claws retracted away into ground and the dark mist dissipated. A gasp slipped past Ginny's lips. She couldn't help herself—standing nonchalantly in front of her was none other than Amaroc the Maker.

Amaroc absently petted the dead crystal dragon like a fond pet as he shifted his attention to her. He studied her for a long moment, then, a sardonic smile crossed his features. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

It took her another ten seconds before Ginny's mind was semi-operational again and another few moments before she could form sensible words. "Are you going to kill me now?"

Amaroc tilted his head as if he had just heard something odd. "Kill you? Why would I want to do that?"

Ginny frowned. "You just killed the dragon. It's a solo hunt. Only one person gets to take the treasure."

At that, Amaroc laughed, deep, echoing laughter. Ginny didn't know how to react, she honestly didn't think what she said was very funny. "You realize, as the Maker, I can create anything I want in Heafen, right?" he drawled, teasing but not unkind. He clarified when he noted Ginny's baffled look, "The treasures are yours. Just think of this as an early Christmas gift."

Ginny had read on the community board that Amaroc sometime participated in hunts in alternate avatars (exactly which avatar was his was up for debate), but she had never read anywhere, or heard any rumours of Amaroc appearing personally to sway results of a solo hunts. Amaroc was eccentric and whimsical, but surely, there was a limit to his whimsy and there must be a reason why he was standing there in front of her. Ginny had so many questions, but when the familiar world-teleporting swirls had materialized around him, she knew she had time for only one question.

"Why did you help me?"

A slight smirk tugged on his lips as Amaroc considered her question. The teleportation swirls thickened. He was barely visible when Ginny heard his cryptic response: "Curiosity, I suppose."

**—x—x—**

**January 2010**

Theanalmalak (she called him Malak to avoid childish fits of giggles), a dwarf hunter and long-range weapon specialist in her quest team, materialized from a ball of light. "Sorry, I'm late, work—" he broke off abruptly. "Bloody hell, Wesvra, is that the Staff of Magus?"

Ginny groaned loudly.

Lucaorl laughed at the question and slapped him hard on the back. "Right? That was exactly my reaction when I first saw it ten minutes ago."

Malak was still staring at Ginny's staff. "How in the world did you get your hands on that?"

"I won it from a hunt," Ginny replied simply, hoping to avoid telling the full story.

But Lucaorl, of course, wouldn't let it go. "Must be some hunt if the prize was the Staff of Magus."

Kendrarie, the faerie priestess and the team's healer and strategist, finally spoke up having finished going through the logs. "It was a solo hunt rated at level 130+ with the treasure guarded by a level 130+ sacred crystal dragon. You are good, Wesvra, but it's impossible for a level 124 woodland elf to win alone. Who helped you?"

"You wouldn't believe me even if I've told you."

Kendarie and Malak leaned forward in anticipation, while Lucaorl shot her his best puppy eyes. Ginny sighed deeply. Not even Ron and George believed her when she told them and, Merlin, the truth sounded mental even in her own head.

"Amaroc the Maker."

As expected, her quest team looked at her like she had grown three heads.

**—x—x—**

**March 2010**

The brunch started off like the brunches usually did with her sisters-in-law. There was the usual pass-around of the latest pictures of her nephew and nieces, subtle bragging about each kid's accomplishments, and a great spread of food that kept Ginny coming to these brunches despite being the odd one out as a single, childless Weasley woman. She didn't realize what was happening at first, when Fleur "happened" to find her co-worker Jack eating at the restaurant. She politely greeted him when Fleur introduced her, and when Hermione called Fleur away to help with some urgent matter, she sat through a good ten minutes of his boring small talk about Gringotts before making an excuse to the loo.

Jack was thankfully gone when she returned. Ginny was two bites into her second blueberry muffin, when Angelina also happened on her friend, a Quidditch commentator called Sam. Angelina suspiciously disappeared soon after, and left Ginny to fend for herself, as Sam chattered on about a sport she could no longer stand.

By the time Hermione brought over her ministry friend, Thomas, Ginny had enough.

"I don't appreciate you trying to set me up," she told her sisters-in-laws without waiting for Thomas to leave.

"We're only trying to help," Hermione pointed out self-righteously. "You need something to bring you outside again."

"I do go outside," Ginny argued.

"Beyond chores and going to the family dinners! You told us time and time again you weren't ready to find another career, or find a proper hobby, so we thought—"

Ginny cut Hermione off with an indignant glare. "You thought wrong." She gathered her bag and coat and walked out.

She didn't know if she was more angry or frustrated or sad, but the combination of all three drove her to the Leaky Cauldron. It was not even noon, and she was fairly sure the bartender was judging her, but Ginny didn't care. She downed her first drink in three swigs before ordering another. She had just finished her second when she saw from the corner of her eye that someone had stopped next to her.

"You alright, Weasley?"

She recognized the voice. _Malfoy_. Of all the people in the world, he shouldn't be the one to be standing here next to her, _caring_. "What are you doing here?" she grumbled.

"I was on my way to find Blaise at the Heafen Store," he said with the same easiness as when he told her that he played Heafen.

She played Heafen too, but she could never admit that with the same ease.

 _Why?_ A mocking voice in her head whispered: _Oh, you know why_.

The truth was: sometime in the past two years, Heafen had slowly transformed from a fun hobby into something darker. She knew, from the guilt she felt every time she pulled off her headset after spending too many hours in Heafen. She would tell herself she would stop playing, that she would spend more time doing something productive and trying to integrate back into society, but something—another fruitless investigation update from Harry, another argument with her mother about her life, another glimpse in the paper of a Quidditch player she used to play with—and suddenly she would be back slicing monsters with her sword in Heafen.

"You?" Malfoy asked, startling her from her rumination.

She gestured at her empty glasses curtly. "Drinking my sorrows away."

Malfoy sat down on the stool next to her. "There are perks to being friends with the Head of Marketing at Armandian Entertainment. Do you want to come with me and meet him?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure I've met Zabini before. We were all schoolmates, remember?"

Malfoy shrugged with a glib smile. "Humm, were we? That's a period of my life I rather prefer to forget."

He waved the bartender over to get both of them water before turning back to her and speaking more seriously, "Regardless though, my offer still stands. I'm willing to bet that lunch with the Head of Marketing at Armandian Entertainment is more fun than drinking alone."

Ginny couldn't help but gawk at Malfoy. "Why are you being nice to me?"

"It's all part of my villainous plan to take over the world," Malfoy deadpanned.

It was a joke, but there was an undercurrent of harsh self-deprecation that made Ginny her stomach churn. She thought back to their other recent encounters; he had been cordial during those moments even when she openly voiced her skepticism and doubted his sincerity. It was impossible to completely disregard her life-long prejudice against Malfoys, but she decided she could at least be civil. "I just ate brunch, so I'm not hungry."

"Ah, next time then."

The bartender came back with the water. They drank their respective glass in silence. When Malfoy was done with his glass, he threw down a galleon on the bar and stood up. "Hope you feel better," he told her.

Ginny nodded silently, and realized to her surprise that she was actually feeling better.

"Maybe I'll see you in Heafen?"

For six years she had shared a school with this man but they'd never talked to each other in good terms. For an even longer time after that he'd been someone she'd disliked, but here they were... Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was maturity. Or maybe she was just lonely.

Whatever the reason, Ginny found herself letting him know: "I'd like that."

**—x—x—**

**April 2010**

The Bloodravens summoned by Malfoy's avatar, a blond haired, fittingly aristocratic, dark elf necromancer called Foy, killed the last of the Meekbirds horde before they'd gotten past the treeline.

Meekbirds were ironically named birds with sharp teeth and bad tempers that the team unanimously hated. They were ugly, attacked in large groups, had a tendency to attack when the team was fighting sacred beasts, and they were notoriously difficult to kill because of their agility.

Beside her, Lucaorl whistled. "That man's my new hero."

Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. "He is okay—"

Malak cut in. "Okay? Did you see that move he pulled to kill the Marwonderer earlier? He is probably one of the best sub-level 140 necromancers I've seen."

Ginny was glad Foy/Malfoy was still standing in his summon circle and couldn't hear the fanboying, because even if he had undeniable skill as a Heafen player, the last thing she needed was an overly smug Malfoy. "He's just good because he's been playing Heafen for a while."

Kendarie snorted. "You think? His avatar name only has three characters. Where did you find someone like him?"

"Ha. Funny enough, I've known him since I was ten. I just didn't know he played until I saw him at the Heafen store six months ago."

Lucaorl threw up his hands. "You were holding him out on us for half a year?"

"Well, I didn't start playing with him until three weeks ago."

Her quest team shot her a furious look.

"What?"

**—x—x—**

**June 2010**

If you asked Ginny to tell you one thing that was remarkable about Malfoy as a Heafen player, she wouldn't even know where to begin.

For starters, he was obviously an early adopter of Heafen, and he was versed in the lore. No matter which world they landed on for their hunt, he always seemed to know the back story and the general direction of where they should be going to find whichever game character held the next clue.

He also knew all types of random facts, like what a Heafen landmark was based on in real life, or when Heafen released its second core game, or which countries had Heafen stores. The information was all publicly available, and the fact he was friends with Zabini most likely helped, but it was still impressive.

But perhaps the most unusual thing was the fact Malfoy had 26 different avatars, one of each race and class combination, all above level 120, and each with the name of Foy plus a number suffix. He was best at playing the "original" Foy, his necromancer elf avatar, but in truth he was excellent at playing all the characters.

All of this made Malfoy great fun to quest and hunt with, and as Malfoy rambled out another fun fact about the waterfall in front of them, Ginny couldn't help but smile.

**—x—x—**

**July 2010**

The investigation came to a final close two and a half years after the accident. It turned out, the woman who shot the curse, Ella Williams, was not a dark wizard like everyone thought. She had no connection with Death Eaters or Voldemort. She was simply a sick, delusional woman who hero-worshipped Harry Potter and held a vendetta against Ginny for "breaking Harry's heart."

Harry apologized to her when he told her the news.

Her family told her it was good to know the truth.

Ginny simply didn't know what to think.

**—x—x—**

**August 2010**

The room was one annoying puzzle. Not a hard one. Just tedious, with lots of walking back and forth, and no real game play until the whole puzzle was solved.

They pushed the red block into place. "What's next?"

They looked back at the wall with the riddle. Ginny couldn't discern the words as Wesvra, but Malfoy was playing Foy5, his druid troll avatar, so his vision was amazing. "The blue one, I think."

Ginny scanned the room and saw the blue block all the way on the opposite side of the room and groaned. "I hate puzzles."

Malfoy chuckled. "You would hate Tomb Raider." He added casually when he saw the confused look on Ginny's face: "It's a Muggle game series, lots of puzzles. Fairly sure that's what this room was based on."

It wasn't the first time she had heard him mention a Muggle game. In fact, in the few months since they had been playing together, he had repeatedly made Muggle references: food, places, people. The question was always at the tip of her tongue, but mid-battles were not exactly good times to chat, and by the time the fights ended the conversation had moved on. This time though, she was in the middle of a room walking toward a blue block. "You don't strike me as someone who should know so much about Muggle games."

"Given my history, it makes sense you are surprised," Malfoy said, his voice was light and the benign smile never left his face, but Ginny could tell from the subtle tightness of his jaw that it bothered him.

"I didn't mean it that way, you don't have to—"

"It's fine," Malfoy assured with a shrug. "It's not a big secret. I spent three years after Hogwarts traveling around the Muggle world. Somewhere in the middle, I fell in love with Muggle video games."

Ginny struggled to imagine a younger Malfoy dressed in Muggle clothes, trying to fit in, playing Muggle video games. "Your father let you?"

"He couldn't stop me even though he disapproved," he said with a wry simper just as they reached the blue block. "I had money under my own name and a bad case of late-onset teenage rebellion. I told my parents I was following my 18th century ancestors' footsteps on a modern day "Grand Tour" one morning, and I was gone in the afternoon."

As they began the painful process to drag the blue block to the right place, it occurred to her suddenly she knew very little about Malfoy after Hogwarts. After the initial debate about whether Lucius should be jailed, the Malfoy family had stayed remarkably low profile ever since the war. "What made you come back from your tour?"

Malfoy thought for a moment. "I guess, it was just time. I came back home for Christmas that third year, got an inspiration for an art project of sorts, and I found myself wanting to stay in UK, so I did."

They shifted the blue block into its spot and the exit to the room rumbled open.

**—x—x—**

**September 2010**

Ginny couldn't help but think it would have been better had Williams been a Voldemort sympathizer. Had Williams been one, she would have a clear cause to fight for; perhaps then she could use to transform her bitter anger into something productive like Mad-Eye Moody had done, and she could finally find meaning to her new reality. As it was, there was no one and nothing to blame except perhaps the failure of the Wizarding medical system.

In the end, when Williams was found not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect and sentenced to 25 years at a mental ward at St. Mungo's, and Ginny felt no triumph.

**—x—x—**

**October 2010**

Malfoy lingered back with her in Talkaki, the jungle world, after the rest of her quest team had logged off.

"How are you doing?"

Ginny flung the last of the goop from the Monisor they had just killed off her sword. She glanced up. "What do you mean?"

"You were distracted the whole quest," he said.

He wasn't wrong. She had made a few too many mistakes that she didn't usually make. Hermione had just stormed out of Ginny's home with another stack of job postings; another visit that turned into a heated argument about what she should and should not do with her life. _Nothing_ , apparently, was not an acceptable answer, even though they both knew Ginny could live comfortably for the rest of her life off her old Quidditch salary and insurance money.

"I'm fine," she brushed off his concern. She logged onto Heafen to escape real life, and talking about her real-life problems wasn't exactly an escape.

He hesitated, then having firmed his resolve, told her: "I read about Williams on the Daily Prophet last month."

"I don't want to talk about her," she growled in warning.

"But maybe you should anyway. Sometimes it's better to—"

Ginny turned sharply toward him. "I think you've misunderstood something," she interrupted, disdain dripping from her voice. "You have no right to ask me about my real life. Just because you and I quest together in Heafen doesn't make us friends in real life."

Malfoy stilled, and because Heafen did such a good job translating a player's expression onto their avatar, Ginny caught the shocked hurt on his face before it evened out into a distant, impassive expression.

"I'll make sure to reign in my delusions," he said quietly. There was no anger in his voice, just flinch inducing coldness.

He took a long step back and logged off. 


	3. Chapter 3

**November 2010**

Ginny woke up to a stinging pain in her left leg. It wasn't agonizing, but it was consistent and irritating, and she gave up sleeping completely after twenty minutes of turning. She hobbled over to her kitchen, searched her cabinet for her prescribed pain potion, and emptied the small vial in one swig. She barely grimaced at the foul taste. It would be fifteen minutes before the potion would take full effect. To pass time, she sat down at her kitchen counter and flipped open the latest copy of the Daily Prophet.

There was a lot of boring news about politicians, and a lot of non-news about indiscretions or good deeds of one famous person or another, but two pictures on the front page of the business section caught her attention.

The first one was a looping picture of Amaroc making an announcement at the center of Soltay. The article was on the stellar performance of Armandian Entertainment. Nearly 1.8 million copies of the new Heafen expansion were sold in the first week alone, 12 million copies sold in the 10 months since the release, and according to the writer, the sales numbers were still going up. In addition to the expansion spell sales, Armandian Entertainment was also generating revenue from its new player to player transaction feature that allowed users to trade real-world items with each other.

The second picture was of the Malfoy family dressed in black. The article wasn't specifically about the Malfoy family, but their picture was simply there to represent the rich families who supported the wrong side of the war—guilty, but not quite guilty enough for formal judgement. The article outlined the new anti-laundering law that was signed into law a few months ago and cautioned businesses and non-profits from accepting investments or donations from people with a checkered past. So much for the Minister's verbal support of reintegration.

She had avoided thinking about _him_ for weeks. It wasn't very difficult; Malfoy had not signed in to his accounts in weeks and she was well practiced in the art of thought suppression. Yet, with the two articles in front of her, she had no choice but to think of him.

A stray memory hit her, not of their last conversation, but of one of the times they played a quest as a team of two. They were walking down a dirt path to the Forest of Giants in search of their next clue, and Malfoy told a rather funny joke. She couldn't exactly remember what the joke was, but she remembered it was so funny she bent over laughing until her stomach hurt. It was Ginny, not Wesvra, who laughed, and in the same vein, it was Malfoy, and not Foy, who told the joke.

She could only admit she missed him.

And that, maybe, possibly, in the hours they spent bantering and slaying monsters together in Heafen, Malfoy had stopped being her enemy and started being her friend.

**—x—x—**

**December 2010**

A warm fire was burning in her fireplace to keep the cold out and her leg from aching. She would have to brave the snow and go to the Burrows for dinner later, but for now, she had three hours to spare and nothing to do. As usual in moments of quiet in recent weeks, her thoughts quickly spiraled down the dark, negative trenches of her mind. It was Christmas Eve, for Merlin's sake, she should be looking forward to her mother's famous Christmas feast and a reunion with every one of her brothers, nieces and nephews, and yet all she felt was near immobilizing anxiety. She didn't want to hear about their accomplishments and future plans, because every word made her feel so small and lost and woefully useless. And she couldn't see a way out of any of this, because life would not get any better, and it was it all her own fault, and she wanted to just…

She barely stopped herself before she could finish the thought.

 _It was Christmas. Her family loved her._ She reminded herself as she wiped away the stray tear at the corner of her eye. She needed a distraction, and there were no better distraction than Heafen. She hobbled over to her couch, threw on her gaming headset and gloves, and logged in.

A harsh laugh escaped her lips as she viewed her empty active friend list. She chided herself for feeling disappointed. She already knew the holiday plans of her quest team, her brothers were probably enjoying some well-deserved family time, and Malfoy… Malfoy had been absent since October. He had been avoiding her and it was all her own fault.

She swiped right to dismiss the list. There was nothing to be done and she did not log into Heafen to mope on sad thoughts. What she needed was a solid distraction, something that would keep her mind fully engaged. She looked at the map and scrolled through the different waypoint. Her eyes landed on Catacomb of Tututi. There was no better distraction than a large swarm of undead on hard mode. Decision made, she set her teleportation destination.

The skeletal soldiers descended upon her almost instantly. Clearing the rooms solo was more challenging than she remembered. She struggled to keep them at bay, but sometime around the fifth room, things became easier, like she had hit a rhythm and suddenly every slice and stab suddenly felt cleaner, more effective. In the heat of the battle she did not notice the subtle dark fog, but when the last monster fell lifeless next to her, she did.

It was the passive aura effect used by necromancers to weaken enemies. She had seen the fog countless times, mostly when she was playing with… _Malfoy_.

She accessed her active friend list again and—it must be a Christmas miracle—saw "Foy" sat alone on the list next to a small green dot.

From behind, she could hear soft steps stopping just feet away.

She turned. The retreating fog revealed a familiar dark elf avatar, his trade mark smirk strangely absent. Their last conversation replayed in her head for what must be the thousandth time as their eyes briefly met. She had wanted a chance to speak with him for weeks, but now that he was right there, she didn't know what to say.

Luckily, Malfoy did. "I want to clear the slate before the year ends."

Ginny took a deep breath and spoke before her courage could fail her. "I'm sorry about what I said."

"It's fine," he assured with a shrug.

"It's not—"

He shook his head and interrupted her. "You were right. Heafen is not real life. Neither of us would be here if this was real life. If I promise I won't ask about your life again, can we start playing together again?"

"No—" she stopped herself when she saw his shoulder slump and realized he had gotten the wrong idea entirely. "That's not what I meant," she clarified urgently, stumbling, "I never planned for it to happen, I didn't even realize it had happened until I took time to think about it, but in the hours we had spent playing Heafen together…"

She reached for his hand. The contact, as usual in Heafen, was unnaturally cold, but it made him look at her in her eyes as intended. "It wasn't Foy that asked about my life, it was you, and you asked them because you cared, because you're a good friend, I was just too blind to see it. So, please, don't stop being my friend."

Malfoy, no, Draco, stood so still, Ginny feared she was too late, that the damage done was too deep to repair, but then, he gave a single nod.

She felt a wave of relief roll through her. She felt herself a little lighter, and for the first time in a long while, she smiled.

**—x—x—**

**Nearly January 2011**

The kids decided they would have their own countdown in the yard, so Ginny found herself waiting for 2011 with her parents, her brothers, and sisters-in-law by drinking wine in peace and reminiscing about the year. Ginny stayed silent. Between the lackluster truth of her attack and the general feeling of lapsed progress, there wasn't much to be said. And yet, ten minutes before midnight, when her family began to take turns saying what they were thankful for in 2010 per family tradition, the answer came with surprising ease.

"I am thankful I've made a new friend," she told them when it was her turn. It wasn't an exaggeration or a lie, she was thankful.

She wasn't drunk enough to ruin the moment of genuine excitement for her family by letting them know her friend was Draco Malfoy or that they became friends through Heafen. Those details would be something for future-Ginny to worry about. Instead, she enjoyed the hug her mother pulled her into and the slap on her back by Charlie, and allowed herself to bask in the warmth of knowing that, for once, she did something that made everyone happy.

**—x—x—**

**February 2011**

"I'm starting to wonder if you ever log off Heafen," Draco wondered out loud when he materialized next to her. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

It was nearly 1 am, so Draco had an obvious point, but Ginny simply shrugged. "Shouldn't you?"

Draco smirked. "I'm in Australia right now, just starting my lunch break."

"Australia?" Ginny felt a pang of yearning. She had heard quite a bit about Australia from Malak who lives there, but she had never been there. In fact, she hadn't traveled out of the UK since her attack. She pulled out her bow and shot an unsuspecting bird because she could. "What are you doing there?"

"I'm conducting some research for my art project," Draco replied with a lazy wave.

It was not the first time Draco had alluded to his art project with suspicious vagueness. "You sure that is not just a rich person excuse for a vacation?"

Draco covered his heart in faux offense. "Are you saying my art is not real?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "How am I supposed to know, you've never shown me your art."

Draco gave a lopsided grin. "Maybe you have seen my work."

"What, so you are like a wizarding version of—" she struggled to remember the name of the infamous Muggle artist with a secret identity that Hermione always mentioned whenever they were at Bristol. "Backsie?"

Draco pondered her words for a long moment. "You meant Banksy?" He raised an eyebrow when Ginny nodded. "For all you know I could be Banksy."

"Of course you are," Ginny returned sarcastically. She couldn't resist another eye roll. The mental image of Draco painting on walls in the middle of the night was just too ridiculous. "Well, Mr. Artist, how long is your 'lunch break'?"

He glanced down at his wrist. "Fifty-five minutes and ticking."

"Perfect, you can help me with that annoying side quest with the stupid badger that keep getting away from me."

Draco snorted and unsheathed his sword. "Lead the way."

**—x—x—**

**April 2011**

The dinner at the Burrow was particularly brutal. Harry had come over for the first time in months and happened to sit across from her. They had an amiable break up, and there was a time Ginny thought they could remain good friends forever, but then the attack happened. She never blamed Harry for Williams' attack, but Harry blamed Harry—and though it hurt her to admit, guilt, it turned out, could destroy the best of friendships.

They were awkwardly silent throughout dinner. After an hour of trying to speak with everyone other than each other, Ginny made her excuse and went home.

Foy4 was on Heafen when she logged on. Desperate to escape her frustration and loneliness, she teleported to his location and joined in mid-fight, blasting spells angrily at anything that moved around them without prejudice.

Draco glanced at her, and not missing a beat, asked: "Bad night?"

She shrugged, biting the side of her cheek to keep quiet. Her insides were in turmoil. Her feelings were so full, she felt like she might break down at any moment.

Thankfully, Draco simply gestured at the next wave of monsters. He only spoke again when the whole area was cleared twenty minutes later. "Are you tired? Do you need a break?"

She was tired, but it was not the usual kind. "Can you just stay and play with me a while longer?"

He frowned. For a moment, she was worried he would tell her "no," but Draco nodded and so they played on.

**—x—x—**

**June 2011**

"Holy shit," Lucaorl breathed out in awe as he absorbed his surroundings.

The rest of the quest team nodded in silent agreement. In front of them was a surreal series of fantastical luminescent waterfalls that thundered into narrow canyons and out into a lake under a star-lit sky. When Draco told them he had managed to score the team an early preview of the _Endless Night_ expansion, they knew it would include new map areas, but none of them expected the areas to look quite as spectacular.

"Can't give away any spoilers for the main story line, but the lake you see there is one of the areas you will be able to freely explore once you obtain the right gears. There are over three thousand different species of plants and creatures under water," Draco, in his Foy avatar, said behind them.

Malak whistled at the number. "That's about the same number of species living in the Great Barrier Reef."

"Ah yes, the Heafen team based the design of the area on the Great Reef," Draco replied, obviously excited and pleased with Malak's observation. "Have you been there before? I was there in February."

"You were? I go there often enough since I live just a few hours away from the reef—"

Not to be left out of a conversation, Lucarol cut in. "I went there before too! My parents brought me there two summers ago."

Malak smiled. "Nice. Which part of the reef did the two of you…"

Ginny pulled her attention from the conversation when she felt a small nudge on her side.

She turned to find Kendrarie watching the group thoughtful. "Foy sure knows a lot about the _unreleased_ expansion for someone who doesn't work in Armandian," she commented, her voice low so that only Ginny could hear.

Ginny shot Draco's avatar a quick glance. She watched Draco speak animatedly about the turtles he saw on his trip and shrugged. "He is 'bff's' with one of Armandian's C-suites. I'm sure they talk."

"Armandian's…" Kendrarie's eyes widened. "Merlin's beard, if he is friends with one of the C-suites then—"

Ginny shrugged again. "Yeah, Foy is pretty loaded in real life."

"No—I mean, he probably is, but _you_ were the one who brought Foy into our group, you obviously know him in real life, and you said Amaroc gave you the Staff of Magus back then—It just occurred to me, well…" Kendrarie gestured toward her, "You probably know more about who Amaroc is than you let on."

In the real world, Ginny laughed so hard she nearly fell out of her chair. In the game world, Ginny wiped away her incredulous tears and shook her head. "Good one, Kendrarie, but no."

A moment later, her private message window lit up with a message from Draco.

_What's so funny?_

_Kendrarie thinks I know Amaroc._

In the game, Draco's avatar turned to her with feigned shock. _You do?_

Ginny rolled her eyes.

Draco smirked.

**—x—x—**

**July 2011**

The sunset in Kanet was one of the finest in Heafen, Ginny decided, as she watched it from a rolling hill overlooking the ocean. She was so engrossed by the sunset she completely missed the login notification and almost jumped when Draco plopped down heavily next to her.

"You're on again," Draco greeted her with what was either becoming their inside joke or a recurring criticism.

Ginny crossed her arms defensively. Once upon a time, a Saturday night would be special, but now it was just another night; but surely, given they were both on Heafen, Draco had no right to judge. "Shouldn't you be partying with girls at whichever exclusive club-of-the-week rich people like you go to?"

"That's more Theodore's scene than mine," Draco said with a huff, as if to say she should know better. "Besides, I just had dinner with my _father_ , so partying is really the last thing on my mind right now."

Ginny noticed the scowl when Draco said "father." It was obvious from their conversations that he was much fonder of his mother than his father, but Ginny now had to wonder exactly how poorly Draco got along with his father. "Family dinners are hard sometimes."

Draco leaned back to lie down on the grass. "With my father, it's _always_ hard. Nothing I do ever pleases him," Draco snorted out a bitter laugh. "The only reason why he hasn't disowned me is because he can't stand to be the reason why the Malfoy line ends."

She didn't know what to say. Her father had always been a rock in her life, her perpetual protector and supporter. While there were a few teenage moments when she wished he would stop coddling her, she never questioned his unconditional love or the fact he would do anything to keep her family together. Yet, given Lucius Malfoy was a man would slip dark artifacts into an unsuspecting ten-year-old's school book, she could only imagine Draco's relationship with his father was _different_. In the end, she could only lamely settle for: "I'm sorry to hear that."

Draco closed his eyes and gave a frustrated sigh. "I'm sorry you have to hear that too. It's just that Father and I have natural talents in bringing out the worst in each other. Sometimes, I wish…"

Ginny looked at the sun sink toward the horizon, its light reflecting off the high clouds in shades of pink and purple. "I am probably completely useless in this matter, but you're my friend, and if you ever want to talk about this, about anything," she paused and turned to face him as earnestly as she could. "You can talk to me."

**—x—x—**

**August 2011**

Her thirtieth birthday arrived. She begged her mum not to make a big deal of it but she went ahead and invited the whole of Britain to the Burrow for dinner. And, to make sure no one could forget how old Ginny really was, her mum made a cake with an offending "30" in bright red in the center of the cake. Ginny wanted to be grateful, but sometime between the fateful assault to now, birthdays had changed from something she celebrated to something she dreaded.

Her nephews and nieces told her she was really old, her friends and brothers flaunted their happy family and successful careers in her face, and her mum made a speech that sounded more and more like, "Ginny dear, I love you, but all you ever do now is waste your life away with a children's game. You were so accomplished when you were younger, what have you done with your life?"

She drank a full bottle of wine before Hermione made Ron Floo her home. It turned out, depression and the dose of pain potion she took before the party were poor drinking companions. As her fleeting oblivion turned into a massive headache, she felt like she was drowning. All the loneliness, resentment, disappointments gushed to the surface, magnified, pounding at her like stormy waves at a break wall.

Dear Merlin, what had she done with her life?

The Heafen headset was in her hand before she realized she had reached for it. She looked down at her hands. Heafen: the one thing that consistently disappointed her family and even herself; the one thing that consistently brought her comfort.

She could only laugh at the irony as she brushed away a stray tear. Yearning for relief, she put on the headset and logged onto Heafen.

Time passed. Ginny wasn't sure how long she had been playing, but her eyes were tearing from tiredness and her head felt numbed from the hours of gaming when Draco logged on and found her in the Ko Forest going fighting off oversized killer rabbits.

He didn't join in the fight as he usually did and simply stood on the sideline and watched. "You don't look like you're having fun," he said finally when the last of the killer rabbits were disposed of. "Are you okay?"

Hearing his question brought everything that happened earlier today to the forefront and suddenly the lump at the back of her throat grew all over again. "I'm not okay," she managed, too tired of everything to lie.

Draco hesitated, then approached her. "What happened?"

"Nothing. But that's exactly the problem," she felt the liberty from speaking the truth as words poured out. "My leg will never heal. I am just a constant disappointment to everyone. My family is ready to move on but I'm stuck. I have nothing I want to do, there's no light at the end of the tunnel."

She didn't expect Draco to response beyond a silent nod of acknowledgment, but then, just a few moments later, he chimed in. "It's like the world changes around you, but you're frozen in place." His voice barely above a whisper, but the words resonated with her louder than anything anyone had ever said.

His voice was earnest when he spoke again. "All things change, eventually, you know."

She couldn't help but be skeptical. "You don't know that for sure."

"It did for me."

**—x—x—**

**September 2011**

"I've got to go to work," Kendrarie announced after the quest team beat the boss monster.

Malak glanced down at his wrist. "Oh yeah, I guess I should get going too. Need to wake up early tomorrow for a meeting."

"I have to get ready for Theodore's birthday party," Draco said apologetically when Ginny turned to him.

"Are you staying on, Lucaorl?" Ginny asked after saying goodbyes.

"Ye—" Lucaorl froze mid-sentence, before snapping his head to his left. "What—No, mum, just another fifteen minutes—Come on—But—No, I want to go camping with Lucas next month—Fine." His avatar suddenly disappeared.

A moment later, a private message followed: _sry, gtg._

"Do you have plans tonight?"

Ginny jumped. She thought Draco had logged out when Kendrarie and Malak did. "I thought you needed to go."

Draco shrugged. "Do you have plans tonight?" he repeated.

"I was going to finish the Tellic Pass quest and then maybe hit up Orize and—"

"Beyond playing Heafen," he clarified patiently. He waited long enough to see her shake her head before he continued: "Do you want to come with me to Theodore's party?"

Ginny couldn't fathom why he would ask and simply looked at him like he was crazy. "I don't really know him."

"You don't have to. There will be two hundred people there, I can guarantee you not everyone knows him well, if at all, and—" He sighed, "Look, how long have you been playing today?"

Ginny didn't need to check her history menu to know the answer was probably too long. She shrugged off the feeling that this was Draco's attempt at an intervention and pointedly ignored the question. She _hated_ parties, hated the way people would no doubt look at her, hated the fact she couldn't face the world without a measure of shame.

She turned away so she wouldn't need to see the concern in his eyes and triggered a teleportation point to Tellic Pass. "Thanks, but no thanks," she said and jumped in.

**—x—x—**

**Last day of October 2011**

Kottral was a world of fire: angry sun blaring on the orange sand, magma continuously flowing down the edge of the world's largest volcano. She didn't particularly like Kottral, but Draco (this time as Foy22, the gnome mage avatar) passed her the advertisement for a golden egg hunt when he logged on late Tuesday night, and she joined him because she had nothing better to do (what was another 2 hours?).

They breezed through most of the hunts. It wasn't a particularly difficult hunt, and there were enough eggs for everyone that player-killing wasn't rampant. They were fighting a Jabberwolk, a hideous, tongue flickering, fire breathing lizard about the size of a train carriage. Ginny was in the middle of casting a blizzard spell and missed the swiping tail. It connected with her chest and she flew spectacularly toward the cliff. Draco swore, and just before she hit the flowing lava below, forfeited the hunt.

The teleportation swirls instantly enveloped them both and brought them back to the east gate of Valencia.

"You didn't have to forfeit," Ginny returned irritably. "The Jabberwolk had less than 5% health, you could've easily finished the Jabberwolk alone."

"There is a 10% chance of losing all equipped gear if you die in a hunt, you know full well the egg wasn't worth the risk of you losing your gears," he explained as he put away his sword.

"Who cares?" she replied and folded her arms. "If it's fine with me then what's it to you? Now we have to start all over again."

Draco frowned at her. "We've been at it for two hours and you were on Heafen before that."

Ginny snorted. "Your point?"

"I think we should call it a day," he announced. The subtle rise of his voice told her he was exasperated but she stubbornly stood her ground.

"You go ahead. I'm not tired. I don't need a break."

For a moment Draco only looked at her. Then he made a small gesture, and his eyes focused away toward what she assumed was a menu. "Merlin, you've been playing continuously for over twenty hours."

"So w—" She stopped when she realized there was no feature in Heafen to track another player's playing hours. "Wait, how did you—"

"No matter how you look at it, twenty hours in Heafen is unhealthy," he interrupted sharply before she could finish her question. "You can do many things in Heafen, but eating and sleeping are not one of them."

He had a point, but the implied judgement in his words aggravated her and she snapped: "it's none of your business."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "As your _friend_ , your well-being is my business. Stop being a petulant child and go rest," he said, his voice firm. When he saw she made no movements to go, he warned: "Don't make me force you."

"Force me?" Ginny snickered brazenly. "What? You are going to PK me? You may be able to kill me, but you can't stop me from re-logging in right after."

Draco pressed his lips into a thin line. "Ginny, log off."

"No."

Foy22 blinked out of existence. Then, without warning, Amaroc was standing in front of her. Ginny felt her mouth fall open. And somehow, even though it should make no sense, even though her brain was imploding, a ridiculous notion formed and all the puzzle pieces clicked into place.

"You can't be…"

Amaroc leaned in, his icy cold hand touched her arm, and he whispered in a voice different than the deeper voice he usually used, a voice that was all too familiar: "I'm locking you out. Go rest."

The world of Heafen suddenly turned black.

**—x—x—**

**November 2011**

Ginny woke up to the distinct feeling that she had just had a most peculiar dream. She stretched groggily, went on to her morning routine with a muddled mind, and eventually found herself in her kitchen sipping a large cup of Earl Grey tea. She had finished half a cup when she heard tapping. Turning toward the sound, she saw an unfamiliar eagle owl waiting impatiently by the window. She let the owl in, pulled the note on its leg loose, and spread it flat to read:

_Ginny,_

_I imagine you may have questions after yesterday night. If you want answers, meet me at your convenience in the Diagon Alley Heafen Store. Even if you don't want answers, come anyway. You won't be able to access Heafen until we talk and I am assured of your physical well-being._

_DM_

The event from the previous evening hit her at the same velocity as a speeding train. Draco being upset with her playing Heafen for too long. Amaroc appearing suddenly speaking in Draco's voice. Her access to Heafen being revoked suddenly. Merlin—

She collapsed into the chair behind her and nearly dropped her note.

_Draco is Amaroc The Maker._

She repeated the sentence a few times in her head, and the sentence sounded no less mad with each repeat. She dumbly took the pen the eagle owl was offering her, and wrote back in shaky cursive that she would like to meet him in an hour.

**—x—x—**

Draco was waiting for her at the bottom of the Heafen Store staircase when she arrived. He was in similar dark robes she had seen him in last time. He gave the same benign smile she was accustomed to seeing on the various Foy avatars, and led her casually toward the black door at the back of the store. He touched the lock with his wand and the door opened.

Inside was a special work area, complete with a few large desks, various magical contraptions, a couch, and a team of serious looking wizards in formal robes. The wizards approached them and set a stack of paper on the desk closest to them.

Ginny shot Draco a questioning look.

"I was told I was only allowed to answer your questions if you agreed to sign a non-disclosure agreement," he said apologetically.

"And if I don't sign?"

"Then you can simply walk out. I'll probably unlock your Heafen account in a few days once I'm assured you are well rested. And when I see you again in Heafen we will talk about everything other than what you saw yesterday," Draco answered with an unconcerned shrug.

"You are not worried that I may run out and tell everyone about yesterday?"

Draco smirked a little at the question. "No one would believe you," he said simply and she knew he was right. Without solid proof, no one would ever believe Draco Malfoy was Amaroc.

"There're no crippling fines, or any hidden clauses," Draco assured her when he saw that she was unsure. "Signing the paper just binds you to a secrecy spell that will keep you from spreading what we talk about today and in the future with people unbound by the agreement."

She glanced at the paper, then at Draco, and back to the paper. "Fine." Her lawyers will likely throw a fit if they realized she was about to sign a contract without fully reading the content, but it didn't matter. The bottom line, she realized, was that she trusted Draco's intentions.

The paper glowed as her signature dried on the paper and she felt the tingling of unfamiliar magic binding to her. When the glow subsided, Draco raised a single eyebrow at the serious looking wizards, and they quickly picked up the papers and filed out of the room.

He motioned for her to sit on the couch as he sat down on a comfortable looking chair directly across from the couch. She barely sat down before she asked: "Did you really have to be in your Amaroc form to revoke my access yesterday?"

A playful smirk flashed on his face. "I suppose there were other methods, but they would've taken longer, been decidedly less dramatic. What else would you like to know?"

"Let's start with the story of how you became Amaroc."

"The war ended. My family was free but our reputation was in shambles. No one in the UK magic community wanted to be associated with us. So when I graduated from Hogwarts, none of the social functions and back room deals that traditionally kept a Malfoy busy were open to me. I found myself isolated, drifting with no goals or aspirations, and nothing to occupy my time."

 _It's like the world changes around you, but you're frozen in place_ , Draco had said, and Ginny suddenly realized why his words resonated with her. Different circumstances got them to the same place, the same shared experience.

"I already told you I traveled the world for three years, and sometime during that period I fell in love with video games. In the Christmas of 2001, I was trying to explain video games to Blaise and Theodore by placing my memories into a Pensieve for them to see, and that's when the idea hit me. Pensieves allow users to experience a memory, but what if modifications could be made to the magic that made Pensieves function? Could a user then experience a story in first person? Wouldn't it be great if one could be the hero instead of just playing the hero character on a small foggy screen?"

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to kick herself for not realizing the truth earlier. Intentionally or not, Draco had left her plenty of clues: the timing of her bizarre first meeting with Amaroc the Maker, his three characters Heafen handle, his in-depth knowledge of Heafen antidotes, the fact he was able to secure the quest team a private preview of the next _Endless Night_ expansion… which had an area based on The Great Barrier Reef… A realization dawned on her. "From the beginning, _Heafen_ is your art project."

Draco nodded. "The Malfoy fortune allowed me to never work for a living, so I could afford to pour all my time and energy into an unproven idea that didn't have any practical application and may never go anywhere. But I got lucky, I made breakthroughs early, and before I knew exactly what I'd made, the first version of Heafen was born. Blaise and Theodore somehow convinced me to release the game to the public, Heafen became surprisingly popular and fortuitously lucrative, and then, I guess, the rest is history."

It took her some time to digest all the information. She felt the persistent fingers of fate as she considered how Heafen only came to be because the past unfolded in the exact manner required to facilitate its conception. She wondered what her post-injury life would be like had Draco never made Heafen. Could they still somehow find each other and become friends? Would she still be able to find sufficient distraction from reality to make living bearable?

When she could finally speak again, she asked the final lingering question: "Why did you stay anonymous all these years?"

He considered her question for a moment before he replied. "I want people to judge Heafen for what it is, not who I am."

She wanted to tell him that no one would think less of Heafen even if they knew he was the creator, but she knew it would be a lie. Malfoy's intentions would be questioned, and conspiracy theories would likely pop up, and a verbal group would no doubt start anti-Heafen campaigns. She wondered if she would be one of those people, especially when the wellbeing of her nieces and nephews were involved.

"Don't feel sorry for me," Draco told her when he saw the look on her face. "It's a small price for everything I ended up getting from Heafen. We all go to Heafen for different reasons. For me, Heafen is a place I can give back to a world I damaged without being hampered by my past and," he paused and gave a self-deprecating expression, "it's a place where a bad guy like me can be an admired, beloved hero like Harry Potter."

Ginny felt her chest tighten. "You're not a bad guy. A bad guy wouldn't nosily fret over a loser's well-being like you do."

"And you're not a loser, Ginny."

A strangled laugh escaped her lips. "But I am. I'm a crippled, depressed, recluse."

"Somewhere inside, you must be a sociable, funny, and capable woman, because Wesvra is and our Heafen avatar can only ever be a version of ourselves." Draco leaned in and gently pulled her hand into his. Unlike in Heafen, his hand was warm. He was here. He was real.

At the back of her mind, Ginny wondered how long it had been since someone had last held her hand.

He waited until he caught her eyes to say, "I like spending time with you, Ginny. Completing quests with you and your friends was probably the most fun I had in Heafen in recent memory. But I've decided to put a restriction in Heafen to stop anyone from playing Heafen for more than 6 hours at a time in the next release. Heafen is a balm that smooths over wounds, but it's never the cure. We can only really work out our problems in the real world."

Words died in Ginny's throat as she took a shuddering breath.

Draco reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a business card. "My therapist recommended him, when I asked her for someone that specializes in post-traumatic experiences. Apparently, he hosts therapy groups specifically for people with permanent injuries."

He placed the card in palm of her hand. "If and when you're ready, you should contact him."

She closed her eyes and felt tears traced down her cheeks. It was difficult to imagine the future, but she could see the shape of something better, and it was overwhelming. "If I go—" her voice broke but she pushed on, "When I go, can you be there with me?"

Draco didn't hesitate. "Of course."

**—x—x—**

**December 2011**

For the last six years, Amaroc gave one lucky journalist a chance to privately interview him twelve days before Christmas. This year was no exception.

There were the usual inquiries about Heafen's past and future, which Amaroc gracefully answered, sly probes into his real life identity, which Amaroc expertly dodged, and eventually, a closing question about what Amaroc considered as the most beautiful thing in Heafen.

The interviewer had expected Amaroc to say the waterfalls of Killen, or the starry sky at Mount Bennia, but the answer Amaroc gave after a moment of consideration was this:

"The most beautiful thing in Heafen is its ability to bring unlikely, lonely people together."


	4. Epilogue

**January 2012**

Markus Jones looked at the two empty chairs in the therapy circle. The new people that were supposed to be joining them were late. He had no idea who they were. The medic that made did the initial intake had forgotten to write down their names, so the only thing he had to go on was that the patient was a woman with a permanent injury on her left leg, and she had requested to bring a companion with her for support. He glanced at his watch—they were five minutes in the session already. It was time to start. "I am guessing our new members cannot—"

The door opened behind him. He sighed and turned to the newcomers. There was a man he didn't quite recognize, but felt he probably knew from somewhere. Unfortunately, before he could determine exactly where he had seen him before, he was wholly distracted by a familiar shock of red curly hair. She looked different dressed in a plain shirt and jeans, and she walked with a noticeable hobble, but as a life-long Holyhead Harpies fan, he had no trouble recognizing the ex-captain that got the Harpies into the European Cup for the first time: Ginny Weasley.

 _Merlin's beard._ He nearly dropped his notebook. Ginny Weasley in the flesh. He was fanboying. Would it be weird if he asked for an autograph? Would it be—

"I told you I knew where the room was," said the man rather cheerfully, and Markus pulled himself together and shifted his focus back to the present.

Ginny Weasley snorted. "Right. That's why we walked in a circle in the east wing twice."

The man gave a sheepish laugh and shrugged. Markus took the opportunity to better look at the man. He had short platinum blond hair, tall but skinny, and he was wearing one of those expensive dress robes that St. Mungo's donors favored. Standing beside Ginny Weasley, the man looked like he was plucked from a different planet. _Odd pair,_ he thought as he watched the duo take their respective seats.

Ginny Weasley looked up at him suddenly. Markus quickly looked away, embarrassed that he was caught staring. He collected himself, stood up, and cleared his throat. "Welcome. I'm Healer Markus Jones, facilitator of the therapy group, would you like to introduce yourself to our group?"

The man glanced over at Ginny Weasley. When she shook her head, he turned to the group, and said in crisp English: "Hello, my name is Draco Malfoy—"

Mumbling spread around the group as a few of the older members recognized the last name. Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy's son. _Odd pair_ suddenly seemed like an understatement.

Draco Malfoy patiently waited until the voices died down. If he was bothered by the reaction, he did not show it. "I'm an artist of sorts, Heafen enthusiast, tea drinker—" Ginny Weasley elbowed him and Draco Malfoy raised a single eyebrow. They shared a meaningful look, then, Draco Malfoy turned back to the group and finished his introduction in a more serious note: "I am here as the friend of Ginny Weasley, here to provide moral support. Happy to meet all of you."

Markus Jones was a professional therapist, but he was also a hopeless romantic, so while he didn't write down any notes speculating about the nature of their relationship, he was definitely thinking it. Not that it was any of his business, of course, but if anything could make a sensational bad boy-good girl love story, it would be a romance between a Weasley and a Malfoy— _No_. He forced his attention back to the room. _Focus, Markus, focus._

"Hi, I, um, I am…" Ginny Weasley's voice cracked. Her panicked eyes darted instantly toward Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy gave her a nod and an encouraging smile, and Ginny Weasley visibly calmed. "I am Ginny Weasley, ex-Quidditch player, hurt by a fateful attack all of you probably already know about. I am looking forward to discover who I am now and move toward the next chapter of my life with all of you."

She said the last bit very quickly and her face was flushed from embarrassment. If he didn't know better, he would have thought she never spoke to a crowd before. Then, her eyes darted back toward Draco Malfoy, who mouthed her good job with a brilliant grin.

Ginny Weasley grinned back.

 _They are not together, but something is definitely there,_ Markus Jones noted in dismay.

"Welcome to the therapy group," he said to the pair at last. The hopelessly romantic part of him crackled in excitement as he compiled a mental list of different group exercises he could incorporate into his sessions. Not as the first exercise, of course, but later, when she was better and ready he would give them just the right nudge.

They would thank him later.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Dear prompter, this story is probably a bit different than what you expected when you gave the prompt, but I hope you like it anyway.
> 
> Boogum's Prompt (1)
> 
> Basic premise: Ginny either joins or is coerced into joining some kind of "therapy group" (you can choose - whether it be an addiction recovery group, anger management, some kind of PTSD group - whatever). The point is that Draco is a member of the same group, much to her chagrin.
> 
> Must haves: Post-Hogwarts.
> 
> No-no's: Previous DG relationship. Character bashing. Excessive angst.
> 
> Rating range: Any
> 
> Bonus points: Some quirky or unexpected side characters (for the therapy group members). If Ginny and Draco are forced to draw crayon pictures (or something Draco would find equally ridiculous) as part of the therapy classes. Awkward flirting.


End file.
